New Found Harry
by goldenone
Summary: Ron finds Harry after he's been missing for years and asks him for some help, but some things have changed, and not always for the better.
1. Welcome back, Potter

Ron stopped at the door, staring at the number. This couldn't be the place. There was no way he could be right. This was an old, broken apartment house; nowhere near the grandeur and riches he knew Harry had. Why on earth was Harry here? He leaned forward and inspected the plaques underneath the buzzer buttons. There, underneath a scratched and worn piece of plastic was the name Potter. He pushed the button, and in a second a voice, hoarse and tired sounding, answered the bell. "Yeah?"

"Harry? Are you there?" A bitter chuckle floated down through the speaker, then an answer, "Mostly. Who's this?" Ron swallowed the lump that rose in his throat, and said, "It's Ron." There was a pause, then Harry's voice came back, angry, "How the hell did you find this address?"

"Don't be mad, Harry. I've been looking for you for months now." He let out a slight laugh and added, "You're bloody hard to find." Harry shot back, his voice shaking with anger on the intercom, "That was the idea." Ron waited a second, and when Harry didn't say anything else, he asked," Can I come up? I need to talk to you." Harry waited a second, thinking it over, then snapped, "Fine. Come on up," and a buzzer sounded as the door unlocked.

Ron walked up the stairs and made his way down the hall, counting off the door numbers until he found 14. The door was cracked open, and the sound of a television set came through to the hall. He pushed the door the rest of the way open and walked into chaos.

Clothing and dishes were piled haphazardly on the furniture, and several ashtrays set about the room were filled and overflowing. Harry was sitting on an old and faded chair in front of the set, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, the smoke climbing up towards the ceiling "Since when do you smoke?" he asked. Harry looked up at him, and Ron almost took a step back. His face was thin and pinched, with huge dark circles under dull green eyes. His hair was cut short, and stuck up haphazardly, making it look like he had just rolled out of bed, even though he'd obviously not gotten any sleep lately. The infamous scar stood out on his forehead, he didn't bother hiding it anymore. Another scar marred his forearm, long and thin across his skin. A pair of dirty jeans hung on him, and an old black t-shirt, faded and slightly shrunken, had been thrown on. His feet were bare, and propped up on each other on the floor while he sat in the chair.

Harry leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out. Despite the squalor he was surrounded by and his unkempt appearance there was an air about him. A way of moving that gave away the years he'd spent as a professional sky-dancer, one of the most difficult and physically taxing jobs in the wizarding world, only the best flyers got in. The way he held his cigarette, the way his arm rested perfectly on the arm of the chair, showed the grace he'd acquired from feeling more at home in the air than on the ground. Harry looked worn-down and tired, almost exhausted, but he was obviously on edge. An image came to Ron's mind of a man on a knife-edge. One wrong move and he could split, but he managed to balance perfectly. This was Harry.

Ron sat on a half-empty chair and looked down at his hands. "So," he asked them, "Since when do you smoke?" A low, bitter chuckle came from the chair, and he saw ash go floating to the floor from the cigarette. Harry took a drag, and let the smoke out as he answered, "Since I decided it's better to have something to do that doesn't involve hurting someone." Ron looked up in confusion, and Harry smirked. "Which would you rather have me do," he explained, " Punch out a guy for harassing me in a bar, or step outside for a smoke to calm me down?" Ron shook his head. "Why are you in a bar?" Harry smiled up at him and said, "To keep me from smoking." Ron turned towards him, "Harry, be serious. Those places are dangerous, you know that. Why are you going there?" Harry leaned back, putting his hands behind his head, his cigarette dangling in his lips, a slow trail of smoke circling up to play in his hair before moving on towards the ceiling. "Relax, Ron, I can handle myself. I'm 'The Boy Who Lived,' remember? The great Harry Potter. I took on Voldermort at 18, you think I can't handle some half-drunk idiot?" Ron stood up and paced a few feet before turning back to say, "You've changed, Harry. A lot. But I'm still willing to make you an offer, and I think you'll want to take it."

Harry turned and looked at him. "What kind of offer?" Ron crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. "The ministry wants you back. They're having some… difficulties. They think you could help, a lot actually." Harry stood up and crossed his own arms. "What do I have to do? There's got to be some kind of catch." It was Ron's turn to smirk. "No, I was told to just tell you the basic information. That's all you have to know. Come and work for the ministry. You get your own place, and all the things you'd need for the job." Harry shook his head and scratched his neck, peering at Ron through the short bangs that hung over his forehead. He took another pull on the cigarette, then ground it out on a near bye tabletop. "You sound like some character on TV; all cryptic and mysterious. It's bull. You're not that full of yourself to actually take it so seriously. Now tell me what's up." Ron just shook his head and smirked again. "No, I've said what I have to say. You get to choose now. No more details. If you say yes, you come with me and I take you to your new place. No, and I leave you as curious as you'll ever be, but you'll never know what it was. Now, what's your decision?"

Harry looked at Ron, studied him, his arms crossed again. They stood staring at each other, mirror poses, opposite men. Finally Harry grinned and said, "Ok, you win, Morpheous." Ron blinked at him. "What?" He just grinned again. "Never mind, it's a Muggle reference. Give me a second, I need to grab some things." Ron nodded, and a minute later Harry came back with a bag slung across his back, an old, broken-in leather jacket, and a pair of sneakers on. "Let's get out of here." As he led the way down the stairs, Ron asked, "Won't your landlord wonder where you went?" Harry shook his head and let out a bark of laughter. "Hell no. He doesn't care what happens around here, as long as the rent gets paid. One of the reasons I chose this place. I left another month's rent in the apartment, just in case I come back. He won't bother to look around." They reached the street and a dark green car rolled up from a spot that had been empty just a second ago. Harry climbed in and waited as Ron got in on the other side. He turned and said, "Ok, here's where you say something like 'I'm about to show you down the rabbit hole, Neo. Are you ready?' " Ron stared at him, confusion plastered across his face. Harry laughed and assured him, "I'm just messing with you. You need to see some movies, you know that?"


	2. Hello, I love you, can you tell me your ...

They pulled up to a large grey stone house and got out. Ron led the way up to the door, but stopped before they got to it. He turned to Harry and explained, "This is the Search and Rescue branch of the ministry. It's not used often, so it's perfect for your re-introduction. Remember, most of the people here think you're dead. The rest either worship you or hate you. You'll find them soon enough, it's the majority I'm worried about. You disappeared so… dramatically last time, try not to make too much of a show of this, ok?" Harry just nodded, eyeing up the door. Ron opened the door and led the way down a very large, very boring hall and into a boring grey room near the back. He moved a large stand-up piano away from the wall to reveal: the wall. Harry looked at it, then back at Ron. "It's a wall. Way to go, Ron. I think I can take it from here. He leaned forward and stuck his hand through the wall. He turned and grinned at Ron. "Just like Platform Nine and Three Quarters, right?" Ron grinned and nodded. "Straight through, I'll be right behind you, so move out of the way, ok?" Harry nodded and stepped through the wall.

Ron followed him right after, and he barely got out of the way before the red head came through. This side of the wall was lined with wooden paneling and a deep red carpet. A large desk sat on one side of the room, and a couch, with several wizarding magazines on the table in front of it, on the other. A rather pretty blonde witch in blue robes and glasses sat at the desk, looking at them from her chair in an officious manner. "Welcome to Search and Rescue, gentleman. How may I help you?" Ron stepped to the desk and leaned in, explaining something in a low voice. She looked Harry up and down in an impersonal, slightly bored look while Ron spoke, and replied in an equally low voice. Ron said something back, then straightened up and smiled at Harry. "I'll be right back, Harry, I have to go and report in. We'll get you set up and straightened out when I get back." Then he turned and walked through a door behind the desk.

The blonde picked up her quill and set it on the parchment she had been working on. It balanced there for a second, then started racing across the page of it's own accord. Harry recognized it as a Quick Quotes quill from experience. During the numerous interviews he had given after he'd killed Voldermort, several of the reporters had used them. He sat and looked at some of the magazines, but gave it up once he realized that they were all trying to sell something to him. He looked up at the witch and grinned. "It's never very nice when a magazine's page asks you if you suffer from corns and it's voice is more sympathetic than your doctor's." The witch looked up, smiled, and went back to work.

Bored with the magazine and itching with curiosity, Harry stood up from the couch and walked over to the desk. He leaned over the desk and offered his hand to her. "I'm Harry Potter," he said, and flashed a smile at her. She gave his hand a brief shake and said, "I know," then smiled again and went right back to the parchment. A little taken aback at her indifference towards his celebrity, he leaned over again and asked, "I'm sorry to be interrupting you like this, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do, but I was wondering if you could tell me why I'm here?" He grinned engagingly at her and waited for her reply. She gave a light sigh and the quill stopped moving. She set the parchment down, organized her desk a little, folded her hands on top and looked him directly in the eye. "What would you like to know, Mr. Potter?" Looking around, he glanced back at her. "Well, I'm kind of like to know why I never heard of this place before. I worked in the ministry for a couple years, and I never even knew this branch existed. Is it some kind of secret?" The blonde smiled crisply and said, almost recited, actually, "The Search and Rescue branch of the ministry is under top priority secrecy, and therefore it is not known to many. It was developed during the Warlock Wars in 1866, and has been in operation ever since. Because of the secret manner of most of the activities here, the ministry does not wish for the general public to know about it." She broke off her monologue and gave Harry a look over her glasses. "You, Mr. Potter, were considered general public, despite your celebrity and position in the ministry."

Harry, a little offended at her tone and manner, took a breath and smiled again. "Thanks." She gave another of her all-too-frequent, polite smiles and asked, "Is there anything else you would like me to inform you of?" He nodded and asked, "Your name?" She smirked this time, a welcome change, and replied, "Miss Belinda Shaw. I'm welcoming secretary for Search and Rescue, as well as an emergency operative and general coffee maker." She broke off and met his gaze again, this time with a slightly more genuine smile, "And sister to a young girl that will collapse when she hears I met you. In fact," she reached down into a drawer and pulled out a smaller piece of parchment, "If you would sign this for her, I'm sure she'd be thrilled." He grinned, relieved to see the daunting young woman was human after all. "Sure, what's her name?" Belinda told him, "Merina. I think I have a picture of her, actually." She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a picture of a smiling girl of about 16, her long blonde hair in two braids and a simple light green dress on. Her picture didn't leave the frame, but she did look down in shyness, looking back up and blushing slightly as she folded her hands in front of her.

Harry looked up at Belinda. "She's beautiful. You two look like sisters, you can tell you're related." Belinda gave him a genuine smile, and he was dazzled for a second. Then he shook his head and wrote on the parchment, "Marina, You have a beautiful picture, thank your sister for showing it to me. I hope you always stay so charming. Harry Potter." He handed it back and was rewarded with another smile. "Is that all right? I'm not used to writing personal messages." She nodded and assured him, "It's perfect. I wouldn't be surprised if she framed it." He laughed softly.

Belinda leaned towards him and rested her head on her hand. "You're not anything like people say you are." He chuckled and asked, "Really? How am I different?" She smiled again, and Harry's head spun as she answered him, "Well, most of the times people say you're shy, or passionate, or polite, or amazing, or stuck up, or even god-like. But you're different. You're actually human." Harry felt a real, full-out, ear-to-ear smile spread across his face. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a while." She blushed, and smiled and Harry saw an even stronger resemblance to her sister. He leaned a little closer and said, "Belinda, thank you for making my day." She laughed and replied, "No, thank you for making mine. And Merina's. She's just going to flip when she sees this." She turned to put the parchment away, and Ron came through the door.

"Harry, I'm sorry it took me so long. Follow me." He turned and walked back through the door, holding it open for him. Harry started towards the door and walked through, then turned back and said to Ron, "I forgot something, hold on a second." He walked quickly back and went behind Belinda's desk and shook her hand. "It was really nice meeting you, Belinda. Thank you." She gave him another of her amazing smiles and said, "No, thank you, Harry. It was a pleasure." He glanced behind him and saw that Ron wasn't looking. He bent and kissed her hand, smiled again, and left. He turned back as the door closed, and met Belinda's gaze as she smiled after him, her hand still held in the air where he's left it.

When he turned around, Ron was standing right behind him, grinning. "What?" Harry asked. Ron just shook his head and said, "Still the same old Harry, underneath it all." Harry protested his way all the way down the hall. They stopped at a door labeled "Special Interests," and Ron turned to him. "Here's where we stop. Now, you have to go in alone. Just walk right in, they'll tell you what to do." Harry nodded and started to open the door. "Oh, and Harry," Ron's voice came from a little farther down the hall, "You might want to try and forget about Miss Shaw for a little bit, you're grinning like a fool." Harry shot him a look as he walked on down the hall, then composed himself and opened the door to his new life.


	3. Blackroom Blitz

Harry stepped through the door and into pitch black. The door slammed behind him, and instinct kicked in. He crouched down and spun around, grabbing behind him for a person. No one was there, so he pressed himself against the wall, holding himself completely still. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he listened intently for any sound. A noise to his left, like cellophane being torn off the roll, and he was there. His arms wrapped around a body, automatically going around a neck and waist, lifting the person off the floor.

The person struggled against him, but he just tightened his arm around their neck and they stopped. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Let me go!" the person protested. "Not until you tell me what the hell you're doing here." Harry said. "For heaven's sake, Harry, put me down!" startled at hearing his name, his arms loosened for a second, and the person twisted out of his hold and dropped to the floor. He reached for the person again, but was hit with a blow to his temple and fell back into a piece of furniture. A voice cried out "Gesehen!" and the room lit up. He found himself facing none other than Hermione Granger. (AN-Couldn't see that one coming, now could you?)

She stood there, breathing heavily from the fight, her hair up in a messy bun, muggle clothes disarranged, and her wand pointed at his chest. He stood there, staring at her. "Hermione?" She took a deep breath and put down her wand. "Well, it's good to see you still have some of your training left." He stood up, and looked her over again. She was taller, and looked too skinny. Her cheeks were pinched, and her collarbones stuck out under her t-shirt. Her skin was tinged grey, and the clothing she had on was dirty and obviously old. "Hermione," he said, "What happened to you?"

She looked down at herself, and chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot the spell was still active." She waved her wand over her head and the haggard, dirty Hermione was replaced. She now looked healthy and clean. Even her hair was shinier. She smiled and explained, "I just came back from an assignment at a homeless shelter. They rushed me in here and told me to see if you were still able to defend yourself. You know, test you. Congratulations, you passed." She grinned at him and sat down.

Harry shook his head. "Wait, this was a test? They just shoved me in here and stand back?" Hermione nodded. "This is a very unorthodox branch, Harry. You'll find that out soon enough. We do what we have to." He laughed to himself. "You sound like Ron. All cryptic and mysterious, like some kind of cop on a bad show." He stood up and looked around. "I'm not on camera or anything, am I? Is this some sort of wizard show?" Hermione laughed and assured him, "No, it's real. We have to be a bit melodramatic, it's in the contract." They laughed for a second, and then she straightened up. "But for real, Harry, we brought you here for a reason. We need your help. It's difficult to say why, we don't really understand it ourselves, but it's become clear you could be our biggest help. Ron wasn't lying."

He leaned back against the wall and studied her. After a second, he asked, "What do I have to do? I want to know if it's dangerous." Hermione looked at him, a look on her face as if she were searching for an answer in his eyes. "Ron was right, you have changed. It used to be that you wouldn't care what the situation was, you'd do it just to get into the action." She broke off and scanned his face again, then added, "A lot has happened to you, hasn't it? You're different." Harry looked away, uncomfortable with her laser beam gaze. "Yeah, well, people change. Things happen. You know." She gave him another look, then nodded at him, as if to say she understood.

Harry looked back at her and asked, "Well, what's next?" She stood up and started towards a door, "This way." He walked forward, mumbling to himself, "Down the rabbit hole, Neo." Hermione looked up at him, and he smiled at her. "Know who Neo is?" She just shook her head at him, and led the way out into another hall, this one with purple carpeting. They went past several doors until she stopped at an open one. She turned to him and said," You can stop here and rest a bit, there's food in the cupboard and drinks on the counter. I have to go and tell them about you." She grinned and added as he walked through the door, "Oh, and by the way, Trinity could kick Neo's butt any day!" She could hear him laughing as she went to report.


	4. Behind Blue Eyes

AN- The following chapter is all in conversation format btwn Hermione and her superior about Harry. Just so you know, in case you get confused. Let me know what you think, ok?

"Well? How did he do?"

"He did fine. Reactions are perfect, fighting skills are still sharp. The only thing wrong is that he seems to have a kind of emotional instability."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Oh, no. It's just the same old thing. He actually let go of me when he heard my voice."

"That kind of reaction could be very dangerous, Hermione."

"I know. But he seems to have matured a bit. He was cautious at first when I told him about the job. He asked some questions and said some very interesting things."

"Be sure to type those up in your report, the council will want to hear about them."

"I will."

"So you're sure he'll be right for the job?"

"Absolutely. He's perfect."

"Good. I trust your judgment, just don't let him get into anything else. We don't need him to be sticking his nose into where it doesn't belong. He could get hurt doing that."

"I'll be sure he's told no more than necessary."

"Good. You're dismissed."

"Thank you."

"Oh, would you please send in the entrance secretary? I would like to talk to her."

"Sure. I'll send in Miss Shaw right away."

AN- Dun dun duuunnn! I know it was short, but it's all I have time for, and it kind of sets the mood a bit more. Review, please, I'll love you if you do!


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